


Of Pets And Serial Killers

by SkySamuelle



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkySamuelle/pseuds/SkySamuelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar/Elle ficfest prompt- 3x02, Instead of firing Elle, Angela gives her to Gabriel as a gift, a pet. Someone he can do whatever he wants with. And he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Pets And Serial Killers

Angela Petrelli has studied Gabriel Gray's file very thoroughly. In between his asphyxiating, domineering mother, his severe Catholic education and the leading of a quite unremarkable professional life, it appears like the young man was the living representation of 'repressed' until the meeting with Chandra Suresh unleashed the inner beast.

It's easy to realize that the bloodlust is the one outlet and source of passion for Sylar: Sylar is not even interested in sex, doesn't pursue men and women alike for satisfying anything else than a basic predatory urge. The beautiful, submissive Maya should have appealed to him, since she was the embodiment of all that Gabriel Gray was taught to admire in a woman, but even in that case the sexual contact between her and her killer seemed to have spurned more from necessity than actual interest on his part.

The absence of significant emotional bonds probably contributed to Sylar 's essential need to perceive himself above others and entirely removed from his humanity.

Therefore, it was sensible to guess that the secret to contain Sylar was to diminish the sense of impotency so inherent within Gabriel's psyche. Feeding other appetites could help to decrease the Hunger's hold on his mind as well, and it was important to re-establish Gabriel' s ability to connect socially with other individuals.

For all those reasons, regardless of how unstable, ineffective and volatile the Bishop girl was, Angela decided that firing her was ill-advisable.

Sylar' s resentfully intense interest in her made her an even more unique asset.

Besides, Angela would sleep a lot more serenely knowing that Elle was under someone's control rather than freely roaming in the outside world.

"There are no words for how much I despise you"- Elle simpered in her most sugary drawl- "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to kill me?"

From operative agent to official _Pet_ for her daddy's murderer: a certain blonde sociopath is definitely not happy with her abrupt change of fortune.

"Pretty much," Sylar' s answering smirk is dark and despondent, his gaze hostile but the fingers running through her pale hair are nearly reverent. Elle can appreciate the contrast even while his telekinesis keeps her knees nailed to the floor. An invisible force tears her shirt abruptly open and she can't avoid staring up at him with hatred brimming in her cerulean eyes. Yet, she says nothing.

Angela gave her to him, and refusing a Company primary directive is not an option anymore, especially if you know nothing about life outside these walls and have no protection whatsoever. There are worse things than being tossed out without a second glance or even being killed or whored out to a serial murderer. Like being locked and under meds again. Or being experimented upon, _again_.

Furthermore, there's a twisted appeal to be said about the indignity of fucking someone whom you hate that much. It's almost like penance, for both the father she lost and let down and the Gabriel who is no more.

That doesn't mean she is ready to just bend over silently and play the victim. It wouldn't be like her to make it easy, even if they both know only too well she has no choice.

Elle might try to fry him, but she won't. She would absolutely love to fry him, but she can't.

"I think a good little Company Girl like you knows what to do.""

Viciousness seeps clear in her glare for a few seconds before an icy calmness descends on her expression and a cold, cutting sneer stretches her lips. Sylar observes the change with a fascination he won't admit to anyone but himself.

Never.

Stupidly, he finds in this broken and humiliated assassin a double-edged beauty that echoes the one of his angel with a broken watch.

Nonetheless, he has not accepted this gift out of attraction, but out of a need for retribution. He'll purge himself free of her, will shatter the illusion she had once created so completely that he won't be able to remember her ever again as anything but a whore.

The way she arches her eyebrows to him as her fingers pull down the zipper of his jeans - boldly and easily- mocks his inexperience. Just thinking about how often she must have done this to be able to pull off that air of unashamed superiority makes his blood boil and his jaw clench hard.

There's this resilient part of him that only thinks of her as his. His enemy, his angel, his pet, his damnation. His, his, his.

Her eyes are unwavering on his, challenging to give up or to give in as she leans forward and fists him, working him steadily. Bitch.

Elle slides her tongue along the length of him and his hands reach out to grasp the back of her head, fingers entwining in those soft, sunlight-colored locks, and nudging her towards him.

He hates her all the more for the hiss that escapes him when her wet, warm lips close around his tip. Her mouth inches forward with agonizing slowness until he can feel himself brushing against the back of her throat. His grip on her hair tightens as his teeth grind down, biting on his tongue until the metallic taste of blood distracts him from the most terrifying sweetness he has never experienced.

He might kill her for this inconceivable loss of control and balance, but it feels so very good that even the idea of hating her like this for the rest of his life is temptation of the most exquisite kind.

"Mine," he groans, leaning his head back against the wall, eyes drifting shut.

Sylar feels her humming nearly in satisfaction as he thrusts his hips forward into her.

Elle can hate him but stating she has such an effect on him awakens feelings she has never wanted to feel again. Despite everything else, Sylar is a powerful man and raw power like his always does strange, wonderful things to her.

She can well be his property for now, but in this, it's her who is weakening him and dominating him, simply giving out what he wants.

No one else has ever wanted her so desperately and nobody else has ever wanted her enough for something else than her beautiful ability.

She doesn't want to want this, to need this, but the lines her mind has built between Gabriel and Sylar are blurring now. She feels nostalgic, wanton and her pride is the only reason she doesn't reach down between her legs to stroke herself to orgasm.

He finishes with a curse on his lips, his essence spilling inside her as his hips jerk against her body. She holds onto his waist and swallows his seed down good and proper: it gives her a dark satisfaction, even while unfulfilled desire angrily twists in her gut.

When she pulls away, doing her best to put up a dignified, unaffected front that can adequately deny the guilty throbbing between her clenched thighs, her 'master' looks faintly shocked.

That turns her on, too. _Damn him_.


End file.
